


The Excursion

by owlgal



Category: Animorphs - Katherine A. Applegate
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad Jokes, Canon Compliant, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Marco gives advice, Marco makes bad jokes, Post-Canon, Walk Into A Bar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:27:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27594113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlgal/pseuds/owlgal
Summary: After the war, Marco takes Tobias out for a night on the town and a heart-to-heart.This is NOT my story, it was written by my friend @SplintersmithNC. You can find him on Twitter, or with his side account @JoinTheSharing, or on Twitch at https://www.twitch.tv/splintersmith OR on Etsy at https://www.etsy.com/shop/TheSplintersmith
Relationships: Marco & Tobias (Animorphs)
Kudos: 8
Collections: Animorphs Anon Fics





	The Excursion

My name is Marco. I feel like I used to say that all the time. But it sounds kind of cool, right? Very mysterious. Well, that was kind of the point. We had to move in secrecy, living in a constant state of heightened paranoia, sort of stuck between manic surveillance and sheer panic. Have you ever seen prairie dogs on like, a National Geographic documentary? We were like that I guess. Only, we could have also _become_ prairie dogs, if we wanted. Never did that one. I guess we were already paranoid enough without needing to tap into the natural psychosis of those little things. Always worried someone would find us, figure out who we were, and infest us. Or infest our families. 

Looking back, I honestly don’t know how we managed to keep it secret as long as we did. Of course, it all fell apart, eventually. Actually, I’m the one that broke the silence. I showed my Dad, one night after a frantic escape, that I could turn into a gorilla. Actually, I showed him by morphing back to myself after having been a gorilla with him during the entire escape. I told him all about the Yeerks, and their slow, silent invasion. About how his wife, who he had thought was _dead_ , was actually infested by the most powerful commander in the Yeerk Empire. About the Andalites who – save for two – had really done _bupkis_ to help us. And about the Animorphs. Me and my friends. Idiot teenagers with a deathwish.

Anyway, yadda yadda yadda then we won the war. Freed all the Controllers on Earth. Taught some Andalites how to high-seven. Put Visser Three on trial. 

Had Rachel’s funeral.

It had been a few weeks, close to a couple month since the funeral, and honestly? I was fine. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t happy about how everything had gone, but I was coping. Rachel and I never got along all that well, and besides, I had more important things to deal with:

“Advertising! I’m doing a commercial! Old Spice, baby! They called me directly, which is when I figured I ought to get an agent to manage all this _talent_ , you know. Anyway, they think a gorilla can really sell deodorant, I guess. I mean, they’ve got a point, Big Jim was a smelly dude, right?” I waited expectantly, but there was no sound from the other side. “Right? Jake, you there, buddy?”

I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone about this ad deal, so naturally I had called Jake. Best friend, war hero, lousy basketball player, and confidant. Only at the moment, he seemed very out of it.

“Yeah, Marco, I’m here. That sounds pretty cool, man. Old Spice, huh? Wow.” I couldn’t tell if Jake was being sarcastic, or if he was genuinely depressed. Normally, I would make some extra jokes to try and cheer him up, but I was already too amped to meet him on his level, and he hadn’t been laughing at much lately, anyway.

“Alright, I get it. Tell you what, give me a call later. Maybe we can hang out. This hotel has a pretty sweet sauna. You can bring Cassie. I won’t even ogle her.” I thought for sure that would get a laugh out of him – or maybe a stern warning – but no, nothing. Just “sure man. Later,” then the dial tone.

Sighing, I hung up the phone, then dialed room service and flopped down on the hotel suite’s king-sized bed. Leaning over to grab the remote, I confirmed that _yes_ I wanted extra pepperoni, and _yes_ this should also be charged to the room, then I hung up propped myself up on the pillows. I had been living in this hotel for a few weeks, courtesy of the US Government – part of the deal we had worked out for that whole saving-the-Earth thing – and I didn’t mind it one bit. Room service, fresh linens, decent view of the water. Top floor, which meant I had easy roof access, in case I felt the need to leave unseen. Pretty nice.

So you can imagine the shock when, a few hours into a post-pizza/late-night TV stupor, Leno’s monologue was interrupted by the distinctive crashing, tinkling sounds of breaking glass, mixed with the muffled _thunk_ of something heavy landing on the carpeted living room area of the suite. Sleepy or not, old reflexes sent coarse, black hair spreading down my arms and up the back of my neck before my head even left the pillow. Fortunately, I was just in a bathrobe, which I was able to shrug out of before my back and arms quadrupled in size, shooting past “linebacker” to “Schwarzenegger” to “Schwarzenegger wearing football pads.” By the time my feet hit the floor, my toes were separating and my legs were growing shorter, upsetting my balance. I dropped forward and steadied myself on a pair of fists the size of cinderblocks, felt my jaw extend as the gorilla’s teeth grow in, and my morph was complete.

_Well this sucks,_ I thought. After all, I was just trying to have a nice, quiet evening to myself. Eat a little pizza, watch a little TV, fall asleep, hopefully dream about making out with Julia Stiles instead of being eviscerated by Hork-Bajir. Instead, I was a gorilla standing over a slightly damp bathrobe. _Which reminds me_ … I tilted my head down and sniffed, then wrinkled my nose. _Yeah. Old Spice isn’t going to come close._

A noise from the living room snapped me back to the task at hand. _Oh. Right. Cat burglar. Or ninjas. Or maybe it’s the fucking Helmacrons._ Growing increasingly annoyed by the situation in general, I called out in open thought speak. <Alright, jackass. Lemme tell you, you really picked the wrong guy. Let’s rumble.> Then I crossed the threshold out of the bedroom and looked around the corner into the living room, which is exactly when I realized how stupid I was being.

The living room was a mess. There were bits of glass all over the floor, and a rock about the size of a baseball lay under the coffee table. But mostly, I just saw the blood. And feathers. Specifically, a couple of red-and-brown striped feathers, with white tips. Seeing those, before I even spotted the bedraggled, scrawny red-tailed hawk nursing his wing, I knew.

<Tobias? What the hell man. You could have knocked,> I said, rolling my eyes. <Or you could have just told me you were here, and I could have come up to the roof. Let me see your wing, man. It looks like you hit the glass on your way through.> I moved toward him, and reached out a hand. Tobias was… well, he had never been a very close friend, even when we were Animorphs, but we were definitely comrades in arms. We had literally been through a war together. I trusted him completely.

Then he bit me.

<Hey, what the HELL man?!> I yelled, snatching my hand back. <You alright in there? Tobias, say something. And morph out of the hawk body, you’re bleeding everywhere.>

Tobias jerked back as if he had been hit, and shook his head, the way a person might when they’re trying to focus on something. My dad used to call it “clearing the cobwebs.” <S… sorry. It comes and goes, man.> He was already morphing, his hawk beak melting into pink flesh, the ruffled, bloody feathers melting flat and disappearing. He continued, muttering, as if to himself, <comes and goes.>

<I’ll, uhh… I’ll give you a minute,> I said, and turned back toward the bedroom. I demorphed as I went, knuckle-walking over to the bathrobe then standing as I shrank, waiting until I was my old self again before I put it back on. I considered for a moment, then grabbed a spare robe, as well. One thing about hotels, there’s always a spare robe.

I went back to the living room. Tobias was now sitting, awkwardly, on the floor. Well, not sitting, exactly. Sort of squatting, on his heels. Like a bird would sit, maybe, if it had really long human legs. Without thinking, I said “here you go, man,” and tossed him the robe. Rather than reach up to catch it, he spread his arms and tried to sort of hop backwards. Of course, that didn’t work at all given his size and weight, so he ended up just sort of rolling backward a bit before the robe draped over him.

“Oookay,” I muttered, raising an eyebrow. “Hey, come on man. You’re freaking me out. Did you go native, or what?”

Tobias snapped his head around at me and stared before speaking. Or at least, before trying to speak. “Tuhlj…,” he started to say, before pausing and trying again, “tolcha.” Tobias cleared his throat and stood up in frustration. “ _I. Told. You,”_ he enunciated, forcing himself to deliberately speak each word separately. “It comes and goes. The hawk. Or the boy. They kind of…” He stopped and looked straight at me and I swear, even as a human, his stare was intense enough that I almost looked away. “Marco, I… I think I need some help.”

All at once, it clicked. Tobias was here, now, and we hadn’t seen or heard from him since Rachel’s funeral. He couldn’t even speak properly after demorphing, which had never been an issue as long as I’d known him. He must have been living completely in his own head – or rather, his human thoughts had receded completely inside the hawk mind. And now, he had come to me. Not Jake, not Cassie. Not even Ax. I felt terrible for not realizing sooner that something was wrong. Immediately, I softened my tone.

“Okay, man, you got it. Think nothing of it. Let’s talk. As a matter of fact,” I exclaimed, snapping my fingers with a burst of inspiration, “I have an idea.”

\----

Ninety minutes later, Tobias and I were circling over the “downtown” area of a very small suburb. There was a gas station, a couple of fast food joints, some law offices… and a bar.

<Look, it’ll be fine, man,> I was explaining. <This is a tradition. This is what we all should have done. Soldiers go to war, and when they come back, they all swap stories over a beer. It heals them. It’s a comradery thing.>

<It’s a fucking stupid thing is what it is, Marco. We’re 17. Hell, I’m technically 13, since my DNA is from before… you know.>

<Well no _shit_ , Sherlock. We’re not going in as ourselves. Don’t you have an adult human morph?>

There was a pause, as Tobias considered, and then he admitted <Well, yeah. That Sailor. From the aircraft carrier. But he _died,_ man. He’s dead. Just like->

I cut him off before he could say her name. He didn’t need that. Not now. <Perfect. I’ve got some old business man from the office building where my M- where Visser One had been holed up. We’re good. We just never tell Cassie.>

With that, I started a spiraling dive toward a laundromat – aptly named “Suds ‘n’ Duds,” I noticed – up the street. <Come on. Let’s get some duds. Then, hey, we’ll go get some suds.>

Tobias followed me, but his grumbling continued. <Great. Now we’re stealing clothes, so we can go impersonate a dead Sailor and a businessman, to drink underage.>

<We won’t be under-aaaaage,> I sang. <And besides, dude, there are far worse things kids our age get up to every day, and _those_ jerks didn’t even save humanity. We’re practically _owed_ a couple of beers. And we’ll bring the clothes back, Jesus. Now quit whining.>

We landed, as usual, in the dark next to the building, and began demorphing.

<Owed?> Clearly, Tobias did not intend to quit whining. <Aren’t you staying rent free in the penthouse of a _very_ nice hotel? I bet they-.> Tobias was cut off as his body crossed the threshold from bird to human. He started again when he could speak, “I bet they don’t even make you pay for the window.”

“Hey man, that wasn’t my fault,” I insisted, mock defensively. “Some crazy bird ran into it. Poor thing. Flew off before I could help it.”

Just before we walked around the corner, though, I had a sudden realization. “Shit. Okay, thinking about the hotel reminded me. Tobias, I can’t be seen. I didn’t think about it, but I’ve got this advertising deal with Old Spice, and-.”

Tobias held up a hand to cut me off. “Marco?”

“What?”

“Two things: Shut up, and get a grip. You’re not famous.”

“I mean,” I said, now actually defensive, “I’m a little famous.”

“Hate to break it to you, but no. You’re just an idiot.”

“Ok, but I’m a _famous_ idiot,” I countered.

He laughed. Very briefly, very slightly, but it counted. “Ok. Fine,” he said. “You can hide from all your adoring fans out here. I’ll go grab us some clothes. How big is your adult morph?”

I sort of held my arms out to the side to indicate how big I thought I remember him being, then just kept going until I was holding my arms out wide. Really wide. I laughed as Tobias’ jaw dropped. “Kidding, kidding. Y’know, normal middle aged guy. Average height, slightly stocky? Think, like, Bruce Willis. With a gut.”

Laughing again, Tobias shook his head and said “Yeesh. You really got me for a second.” After a moment, he seemed to steel his nerves and sighed. “Okay. I’ll see what I can do,” and then stepped around the corner.

A few minutes later, and he was back. “Thank god no one was in there. Not even your ‘adoring fans’,” he teased. “I probably looked like a psycho, opening and closing dryers, pulling things out, putting them back. Took me forever to find pants big enough. They’re sweats, I hope that’s okay.”

“Yeah, man, whatever’s fine. Let’s just get a move on.” I grabbed the twenty we had carried from the hotel, pulled on the sweats and t-shirt Tobias handed me, then morphed Mr. Grant.

Meanwhile, Tobias went back to hawk. There was a moment, as he stood on the asphalt with his back to me, when he seemed to startle at the noise of me shifting my weight. He snapped his head around and raised his wings as if about to fly off, but he got a handle on it quickly. <Heh, sorry. Jumpy,> he explained, then began to morph a man in his mid-30s. “Catapult and arresting gear officer,” he said, more to himself than to me, as he completed the morph. “From the USS _George Washington_.”

I nodded. “Yeah, man. Looks like a nice guy. Probably nicer than this shady businessman, here. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind you grabbing a beer for him. We’ll have a toast to him, okay?”

That seemed to brighten his mood a little. “Yeah, sure. That works.” He took a deep breath, and then exhaled slowly before clapping me on the shoulder, and guiding me toward the sidewalk. “Okay! Let’s go, Marco.”

\-----

The inside of the bar was small, and extremely… well, like you’d expect a bar to be. There were neon beer signs hanging on nails tacked into old wood paneling. There were a couple of locals talking sports with the bartender, and it smelled of cigarettes and spilled beer. Somebody with a steel guitar (and probably a cowboy hat) was singing that “the thunder rolls,” though quietly enough that I could tune it out, thankfully. Putting on an air of confidence, I walked up to the bar. _Alright, Marco,_ I told myself, _you’re such a big shot actor now, here’s your debut. Just act like you’ve done this a million times._

“You’re full of shit, Frank,” one of the locals was saying to the bartender. “I don’t care if Bonds end up MVP, the Giants ain’t doing worth a shit this year.”

“What’ll it be, Boss?” The bartender broke off from his conversation and turned to me, rolling his eyes at the local’s apparent lack of respect for Barry Bonds, then quickly replaced the look with an easygoing smile. “Just a couple of, uh…” I paused, glancing at the names on the taps: Miller Lite, Bud Light, Michelob Ultra.

Shrugging, I said “Bud Lights.” _Doesn’t matter. Anything will do, it’s not about the beer, it’s the conversation,_ I thought.

“Sure thing,” he said, grabbing two glasses. “You want to start a tab?”

“Hm? No, no. Just the two,” I said, pulling the twenty out of the pocket of my borrowed sweatpants.

“For now, right?” continued Frank, winking before turning to the register to ring up the sale.

“Haha, sure. For now. We’ll see how the night goes.” I chuckled along with him, took a ten from my change, and dropped the rest into his tip jar. Picking up the two glasses, I turned to see Tobias, sitting quietly in a corner booth, staring straight ahead. I took a deep breath as I crossed the mostly empty bar, doing my best to put a look of disinterest on my face, before setting one of the glasses down in front of Tobias.

“So, Tobias. Tell me,” I said, sitting across from him, “why me? I mean, we’re friends, and we fought together, but why not Cassie? Or Jake? Or Ax?”  
Tobias scoffed at that, “Ax has been up to his eye stalks in Andalite War Council briefings. I can’t bother him right now. And Jake? Hell no. I’m not talking to Jake right now. Maybe not again.”

“Okay,” I nodded, though I didn’t really understand. “What about Cassie? You know Cassie’s better at… y’know, all this,” I said vaguely, gesturing at the current situation by lazily drawing a circle in the air between us. “Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind hanging out and helping talk you through some shit. I’m just curious why I was your decision.”

“Well,” Tobias started, staring intently at his beer, “to be honest, man, I thought you were the only one who would help. Cassie’s very kind, and I know she would mean well, but she doesn’t understand the issue. She’s going to think it’s all about-.” He choked on his words, then cleared his throat and closed his eyes before continuing “Rachel. She’ll want to talk about Rachel. And how I felt about her. And how she felt about me. And all the good times we had. And whatever.” He waved a hand dismissively. “And that’s all true, but it’s entirely _not_ the point.”

I usually have some kind of joke ready, but this time I truly didn’t know what to say. I had actually thought that was the problem, myself. So instead I just said nothing, and waited. Took a sip of beer. Made a face, despite myself. _Disgusting,_ I thought. _Why does anyone drink this?_

Tobias looked around, and continued “She was… I mean, we were boyfriend and girlfriend, or whatever. We never said the “L” word, you know, but that’s what it was. Somehow, in spite of everything that happened to us, I always thought we would be together after the war. We could have been together. I could have lived my life with her, two hours at a time,” Tobias was starting to get loud now, and was gesturing wildly. He hadn’t touched his beer yet.

“But _NO,”_ he went on. “Jake, good ol’ Fearless Leader. He had to get her _ki-_.” He choked on the words again, and I took the opportunity to interrupt him.

“Hey man, hey. Tobias. Listen, I get it, but you gotta keep your voice down a little, okay? Those guys are starting to look over here, and I don’t want to get kicked out.” I made a lowering motion with my hand. 

“Listen, I know-,” I started, but paused when I realized I didn’t know. Not really. I had mourned, but not like this. I decided to start again. “Look, things were fucked up. I agree. I don’t like what happened, either. At all. Jake should have gone over his plan with all of us, or at least with me, I could have helped him strategize. But Rachel wouldn’t have wanted anyone to risk their life with her. That mission was certain death for anyone, and she knew that. I think she probably pretended she could kick some ass and make it out, but she wasn’t stupid. She knew the reality.”

I stopped, trying to gauge Tobias for a reaction. There was none. Dude’s got resting hawk face, no matter what body he’s in.

After a moment, however, he turned his laser stare from his beer up to my face. 

“I know all this, Marco. You think I don’t? I loved her. _Of course_ she volunteered. I know that. And I know exactly what she was thinking when she did. I just _miss her_. And I want to see her. And-,” his voice broke. “I can’t cry, Marco. I tried. I morphed to human and sat with her ashes and thought about her for almost 2 hours. And I felt terrible the whole time. But I couldn’t make the tears come. So I went back to my hawk body, and stayed. Retreated completely. Hawks don’t feel that kind of pain.”

He sat in silence for a long time, staring at the top of his drink, both hands wrapped around the glass. It looked like he was trying to decide whether to say something or not. I gave him time.

After a long silence, he spoke again. “I didn’t come back out of it until a couple days ago. I was up high, just riding thermals, subconsciously following my old surveillance routes, when I spotted a bald eagle just clearing the treetops near the school. Even through the hawk brain, my first thought – the first thought I even remembered having in _weeks_ – was of Rachel, and that I should go to her.”

Tobias stared at his beer for a long time before continuing, so quietly I almost couldn’t hear, “and I almost did.”

I didn’t understand at first. “Good thing you didn’t, right? Baldies are huge. It probably would have thought you were a threat, and-”

“No, no,” Tobias interrupted me. “I don’t mean the eagle. I mean I barely pulled out of steep dive straight at a billboard. I was going to kill myself.”

Before I could stop it, I felt my mouth drop open in shock. After a beat I collected myself and said, pointedly, “but you didn’t.”

Tobias sighed. “But I didn’t.”

\----

We sat and talked for three more hours. Until the locals had gone home, and Frank was wiping down the counter and shooting us annoyed glances. Tobias and I had each used the restroom to demorph and remorph, more than once. I had also finished my beer and was halfway into another. To keep up appearances, of course.

Before we got up to leave, I raised my glass and said, “hey, we never toasted to anything. What are we toasting to?”

Tobias looked at me and quietly said “Come on, Marco. You know I grew up in with an uncle who couldn’t stop drinking. I’m not going to start. And I don’t feel like toasting anything, anyway.”

As we walked out, I asked “so what are you going to do now?” I figured I knew the answer, but I wanted to be sure.

“I… don’t know. I think I’m just going to live in the woods, but I’m not going to let the hawk take over again. I’ll still have Ax to talk to now and then. I’ll probably let Cassie know where I am. Just in case. But… well, this is going to be the last time you see me,” he said. Then quickly added, “probably.”

Just before we turned the corner into darkness, I stopped him and stuck out my hand. Tobias seemed surprised at first, but then smiled, and grabbed by hand to shake it. Without warning, I pulled him in for a hug.

“Three second hug, man. No longer,” I said over his shoulder. “Don’t make it hawkward.”

I could see the realization dawning on his face as we pulled back, and a second later we were both roaring with laughter.

“Fuck, man,” he said, wiping tears from his eyes once we settled down. “Hawkward? Jesus, that ought to be the name of my autobiography.”

“Well, then you’d have to pay me royalties for the idea. But not much,” I insisted, raising my hands in a “take it easy” gesture. “I’d be happy with twelve percent.”

Tobias rolled his eyes as he began to morph. “Never change, Marco.”

As he flapped his wings and began to ascend, I replied, laughing, “Shit, man. Changing is my whole schtick. You trying to tank my career?”

Circling once overhead, he called back down to me, <Bye, Marco. And hey, take those clothes back.>

“Yeah, jeez, I’m going to. Calm down,” I called, and then more quietly, to myself, I said “See you around, Tobias.” I waved, and he tipped a wing before flying off toward the mountains.


End file.
